You’re standing in line at airport security when suddenly you’re pulled out of the queue by a couple of large men, dragged into a private room nearby and told, “You’ve been randomly selected to participate in Roman Gladiatorial Combat.”
“I’m just flying to Tuscaloosa for a confere–” You’re cut off by a flash of blinding white light.
Next thing you know you’re in a large, dimly lit room, surrounded by walls of wood and stone, with a dirt floor and a bit of light from lit torches peppered on the walls around the room. The dull roar of thousands of people rumbles above you. The room is inhabited with dozens of other bewildered-looking people who appear to have found themselves here the same way you did. They are all dressed, unsurprisingly, as if they were about to board an airplane.
The two large men who yanked you out of line at the airport appear again and the room brightens up. In loud, booming voices, they tell you “All around you are armor and weapons. Choose your gear and walk through that gate to the arena. You have ten minutes to get ready.” They point, in tandem, toward a foreboding black iron gate, beyond which you see a long tunnel leading to a large, bright arena.
“What happens on the other side of that gate?” someone asks.
“Death,” one of large men coldly replies. The other provides minimal elaboration in the form of, “Kill everything. Survive. Go back to waiting in line.” Then the two of them disappear.
Anyways, you can safely assume you will be participating in mortal combat, possibly versus the people sharing the dark room with you right now, or possibly versus someone, or something, else… Last man (or woman) standing gets to go back to the airport. They’ll hold the plane for you if necessary, but your place in the security line has not been saved (d’oh!).
Your choices consist of basically any melee weapon that existed from the beginning of human time until January 1, 404 AD, reportedly the date of the last known gladiatorial fight in Rome.
What weapon(s) do you choose?